Head cold
by FlamingDoritos
Summary: Good god, what was I thinking when I wrote this...? Anywho, it's a glorious OscarSoren bit. Don't like, don't read.Soren's got a head cold, Oscar gets worried...and my Journalism teacher tells me that I have an article to finish, so stop screwing around.


A/N: Once upon a time, there was an author who finished the script portion of her project early and decided that writing fanfiction was a productive use of the time. This is yet another Doritos production: inspired by games and written for you. Any TRUE fans (hi, Din!) would know that I am almost ALWAYS yaoi. Don't like it, don't read it. Everyone is always OoC. D-e-a-l w-i-t-h i-t.

Anywho, it occurred to me that I have yet to write a crack pairing. The plot isn't ridiculous, but I'm getting there. You'll see in my next pygmy ficlinget©2005. This one happens to be Oscar/Soren. The next one...

Who knows?

* * *

"You," Oscar said sternly, "are sick. And like any other sick person, you need to be in your tent, recovering. Put the tome down, get to your bed, and _sleep_."

Soren just glared at the knight. "I'm tactician of this army. If I don't go over supplies—" he paused momentarily to let out a series of sneezes "—then we will have serious problems when battles start."

"And if our _tactician_ isn't there to guide us," Oscar replied, grinning, "we will be in more trouble than Boyd was when he put Ike's underpants on a poleaxe and carried it into battle."

The sage smiled slightly at that, and then sneezed again. Oscar shook his head and took firm hold of the sage's wrist, carting him away from the convoy and towards his tent.

"Let go of me!" Soren was shouting. "I'm not that sick! Oscar! Let go!"

The knight just grinned and tossed the complaining sage onto his bedroll. Almost immediately Soren made a rather pathetic attempt to get up, which was immediately foiled by Oscar sitting down next to him and pressing a hand firmly to his chest.

"You. Need. To. Sleep," he said insistently. "I want you to rest. Nothing good is going to come of us having a sick tactician. I'm going to get you something to eat, because Ashera knows that you haven't been eating properly these past few days. If you have disappeared by the time I get back, I am going to hunt you down and force you to rest. If that means that I have to spend the entire night in this tent, then I will. Understand?"

Soren gave Oscar a glare that could have sent King Ashnard running for the hills and crying for his mother. The knight just smiled.

"Good. I'll be right back."

Being right back was easier said than done.

It took a full half hour for the poor knight to make it back to Soren's tent in one piece, and even _that_ was a stretch, because Rhys had needed to use a Heal on him twice—once going, once coming back. Kieran, you see, had been 'training', and by that, I mean he had been swinging around a hand axe like it was nothing more than a pillow. It had smashed straight through Oscar's armor the first time it had hit, and if Rhys hadn't been there it was likely that he would have been dead. After shouting at the redhead for the better part of ten minutes, both Oscar and Rhys had headed their separate ways.

Until Oscar walked past Kieran again.

_That_ time was nothing more than Kieran tackling Oscar from behind and begging for forgiveness, which made Oscar trip over his own feet, successfully spill Soren's dinner, stab himself in the shoulder with a fork, and have Rhys come running all in a panic once more.

During this time, Soren had managed to fall asleep, snuggled underneath his blankets like a small child. His Tornado tome was lying out in front of him and his hair was untied, and he was wearing only the inner layer of his robes. Oscar smiled as he entered the tent, then sat down next to the sage's bedroll.

"You push yourself too much," he sighed, reaching out and absently tracing the mark on the smaller man's forehead. "All throughout this whole ordeal you've been keeping everything together all by yourself…and not once have you asked anyone for help, even though we'd all gladly help you."

"I suppose that I'm just stubborn, then," the sage replied sleepily. Oscar jumped, and Soren's lips twitched upward briefly. "I'm not that scary," he muttered, stretching. "And you don't have any food with you, which probably means that you really don't give a damn about my health, therefore your efforts haven't been worth it at all and I should be getting back to work."

The knight glared. "Soren, if it hadn't been for Kieran and Rhys, I would have something for you to eat, although I'd also probably be dead. Don't speak of yourself that way. And I do give a damn about your health. I give a huge damn about you."

Soren's mouth twitched upwards again in that odd little half-smile that only Ike could usually bring. "That just barely made any sense at all," he said softly.

"I don't care," Oscar replied. "I do care for you. You…you've saved us all at least once."

"You more than most," Soren continued. "Your eyesight is good up close, but at a distance…I know you can't see very well."

"I'm not going to mention that you seem to go out of your way to keep an eye on me, though," the lance knight teased. "Not at all." The sage's pale cheeks flushed, and Oscar smiled, pretending not to notice. "Ah, well…it's nice to have someone looking out for me, y'know? And we all keep an eye on you."

The sage nodded. "I…I realize that. You don't need to, of course…but you do anyways." He paused for a moment. "And you…you tend to hang around me far more than anyone else. Any particular reason?"

"N-not really," Oscar replied, looking away. "You and Rhys always needed protecting…and now that Rhys has Ulki and Rolf guarding him, there's just you left."

"That's it? Here I thought you were going to confess your love for me and try to convince me to run away with you," Soren muttered sarcastically. This time it was Oscar's turn to flush, and the sage laughed softly.

"That…that wasn't nice," Oscar mumbled. "Why would I do that?"

Soren's brow furrowed and he sat up. "I'm only teasing you…unless…you really would…want to run away with me," he said, becoming quieter with each word.

"Soren?" The knight frowned slightly. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yes. I'm fine."

Oscar sighed and tentatively touched Soren's shoulder, and when there was no objection, he slowly coiled it around the sage.

"What's wrong, Soren? You can talk to me; you know that I can keep a secret."

Silence followed, during which Oscar pulled the sage to his chest and began running his fingers through the younger man's dark hair. Finally Soren began speaking softly.

"I…I've always…thought it would be…nice…to run away with someone," he whispered. "Somebody who could keep an eye on a stressed tactician. Particularly…if it were someone…that had somehow, against all odds, made me fall in love with them."

"…I have, too," the knight admitted. "I've always wanted to sweep someone off their feet and take them away…make everything better for them. I always pictured some overworked young man who needed to leave wherever he was living but felt that he couldn't."

"Young man?" the tactician's brow furrowed slightly but he didn't look at all disturbed. "You…you like men?"

The lance knight flushed. "Well…yes. I mean…women are nice and all…but…they're too damn complicated."

"Amen to that," Soren sighed. "It's nice to hear…that someone else swings that way. I thought it was just me."

Oscar began laughing, much to the sage's surprise. "No, not at all! In fact, it's rare to come across someone in this army who _doesn't_! I happen to know that Ike and Ranulf have a little something going on, and Bastian and Volke began to like each other the moment they met. Then there's Tormod and Sothe, and Rhys has a _huge_ crush on Shinon. I think that Boyd likes Ulki, come to think of it…and then if you want to start talking about the _girls_…"

Soren smiled and shook his head. "I…wow. I never thought…"

Oscar just smiled. "Considering your incredible observational skills, I'm somewhat surprised. I figured that you'd noticed something, at least."

"All I've noticed is the way that you hang around me in battle, and that you're here right now, taking care of me, even though I'm a stubborn little bastard who didn't want your company in the first place," Soren sighed, although there was a smile on his face. Slowly he placed his head on Oscar's shoulder. The knight flushed.

"You 'didn't' want my company in the first place," he said slowly. "Does…is there a chance that a cranky tactician wants the company of a knight?"

Soren's pale cheeks flushed and he nodded. "I…would like that very much."

The green-haired knight nodded and gently wrapped an arm around the sage, who smiled and snuggled closer. After a few minutes Soren spoke again.

"Oscar…do you happen to…have feelings for anyone in this army?"

The knight smiled. "Yes. I do."

"Really? Who?"

"A cranky tactician who didn't want my company in the first place. And you?"

"A knight who threatened to spend the whole night in my tent if I didn't stay put."

Oscar smiled and lightly kissed Soren's cheek. "We're a pair of hopeless losers, aren't we?" he sighed.

The tactician nodded and leaned back, gently tugging the knight with him. "Yes, but I want _you_ to be my hopeless loser."

The knight smiled and curled up around Soren. "I can do that."

())CRAYOLA))

Frankly, Ike was somewhat shocked to walk into Soren's tent the next morning and find Oscar there, but frankly, the way they were curled around each other was just too cute. Neither was asleep, but as Soren had started spluttering some nonsense about how he didn't know what was going on, Oscar had smiled and gently kissed the mark on the sage's forehead.

"We're ready when you are, Ike," was all that he said. "But Soren's got a bit of a cold, so I'd like it if you let him take it easy today."

"O-of course," the commander stuttered. "I…Soren, stay in camp for today. And…you too, Oscar. Take care of him, okay?"

The knight nodded and tugged Soren close. "Of course."

As their commander left, Soren sighed.

"Good heavens, I can't believe that he just walked in on that…" the sage muttered. Oscar sighed softly and nuzzled against Soren's neck.

"Don't worry about it. He's…it's a bit shocking, I suppose. You and I…I don't think that it was expected, that's all. He'll get over it. And it's not as though it's unusual around here."

"Yes, but—"

Oscar silenced him with a gentle kiss on his lips—something that he hadn't done at all the previous night. Their first.

"Hush, you. I want you to sleep. Get better," he whispered, tugging the sage close. "I'm not going anywhere. I wouldn't even if I needed to."

"Why not?" Soren asked, not for the first time since the previous night. "Why do you care for me so much? Nobody cares for people like me!"

"I don't give a damn who your parents were. I don't care that you're of mixed blood. All I care about is the fact that I love you and I want you to be safe for as long as it's possible. Now go to sleep."

The sage muttered something about stubborn knights, kissed Oscar's cheek, then his lips, and then curled against the knight's chest.

"I love you," he whispered. Oscar smiled.

"I love you more."

* * *

A/N: Aaaagh, what have I created? HOLY WATER!!! I NEED HOLY WATER::banishes fic to depths of computer memory:: 


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